Certainty
by Ice Cube1
Summary: Killian had told her that she would overcome her visions, but when it turns out that he's right, the relief is almost too surreal. Canon-compliant speculation for whenever they tackle the vision head-on, SPOILERS for 6x07


She's safe.  
In his arms.  
Clutching him, trying to pull herself closer.

One hand is pressed between his shoulders, the other scratching through his hair as she buries her face in his neck. It feels like she's trying to climb inside him. Make them one entity. Emma's shaking, but these aren't the tremors Killian has gotten used to seeing, feeling, trying his best to alleviate for her, over the last few weeks. Those were caused by her stress. By worry and fear and a number of other emotions he knows Emma Swan never felt like she had the right to feel.

The way her whole body shakes in his arms now is from shivers of pure relief. Of knowing what he's been trying to convince her of all along, what he's always known. That she can do anything she sets her mind to.

 _I've yet to see you fail_.

His Swan is stronger than anyone he's ever known. And in the last few weeks when she's floundered a bit under this prophecy and the weight of being the Savior for everyone else over her own safety, he's been there to buoy her. To remind her of her tenacity. Of her resilience and fortitude.

His own fears and layers upon layers of abandonment be damned.

 _You inherited the strength of that love.  
True Love can break any curse and so can you because that's what you're made of.  
You can overcome these visions. You can overcome _any _thing.  
Remember who you are._

He'd sounded so convincing that day in the vault - he'd almost believed that she'd be okay, himself.

Logically, Killian knows they've won the day. Emma is safe, in his arms, clutching him to her. Henry is at their sides, his own face buried in Emma's coat. David is beside himself, grinning and clearly trying not to tear his daughter from the pirate's embrace to wrap her up in his own.

Killian knows all this. He sees it with his own two eyes, feels it with the strength of his arms, understands it in the very beating of his heart as it matches hers.

And yet.

He's imagined how Emma's vision would play out so many times in his head that he can see it every time he closes his eyes. He's heard her shocked intake of breath as the sword pierces her belly. He's locked gazes with her as her hands fly to her stomach as if she could stop the bleeding. Felt her in his arms as she lay on the cold ground, her body shivering in shock. Cursed himself out in his head for listening to Henry and abandoning those bloody shears to the depths of the ocean. Gone completely numb from the grief, knowing that there wouldn't be a last-minute rescue this time.

It's playing through his head now, on loop, and feels more real than the woman in his arms.

He knows exactly how it would have felt. Knows the cold fire of steel slicing through muscle and organ and tissue. Knows what the assurance of death does to the brain, to the emotions that have no tether. Knows that the pain crescendos until there is nothing but terrifying numbness. Knows it the way he knows that his love for Emma encompasses everything he does - everything he's done to this point.

He doesn't realize that he's crying until she's whispering in his ear, guiding his head to her shoulder, running her fingers through his hair gently.

It's his turn to bury his face in her neck, conscious of Henry and David still standing by them. He knows that he can't hide his weakness from him - they can surely see his shoulders shaking and hear his gasped breaths. But at least he can pretend to hide that all away in Emma's strength as he breathes in the scent of her.

She's here.  
She's safe.  
She's in his arms.

He's in her arms.  
He's safe.  
He's still here.

It's like the absence of constant worry for Emma has broken down the last of his defenses. They've been through so much in so little time, with no time to process.

Losing her to the Dark Curse.  
Losing himself to the Dark Curse, letting his emotions take over, letting the darkness consume him.  
Trying to make her hate him as much as he hated himself.

Realizing with a terrible shock exactly what he was doing on the shores of that lake.  
His death at Emma's hands - the paralyzing combination of terror and sheer relief that she'd been strong enough to kill him.  
That he hadn't had to kill her like she wanted.

Hades.  
Hades.  
Hades.

Forcing Emma to leave him behind.

And now all of this. Coming back to the world, back to _Swan_ , only to realize that he was going to lose her to the same death that had torn her from him. Trying to be strong for her - _needing_ to be strong for her. Pushing everything else aside so that he could focus on Emma and how to keep her with him.

To Hell with his own issues - Swan needed his strength more than he did.

They've both been running on nothing but fumes and hope for so long that to actually succeed - to save her - feels surreal. He's terrified that if he lets her out of his embrace, if he can't feel her physically with him, that she's going to disappear. That he's going to wake up from this dream into the nightmare reality where she's no longer with him.

Or worse - that this is one of Hades' cruel tricks and he's never left the Underworld. Never left that cell where being beaten and bloodied at the end of a lash was the best day in a string of agonizing days.

He's shaking so badly now that he can't hold them up, his muscles quivering and weak. His strength is gone, lost somewhere in the deluge of emotions that are raining down on him now that his walls are crumbled.

 **Fear**.  
 _Relief_.  
 **Grief**.  
 _Joy_.  
 **Anger**.  
 _Tranquility_.  
 **Anxiety**.  
 _Love_.

Emma sinks to the ground with him, still holding him tightly to her, and he's helpless against the storm surge. He has no choice but to let it batter him about as he searches for safe harbor. For the absolute certainty that his Swan is real, alive, unharmed.

And that he is, too.

She must sense his turmoil, because he can feel her nod to someone - likely her father or Henry - and then the now-familiar rush of magic surrounds them.

They are collapsed in the living room of their house and the scents and sounds he's come to associate with _home_ since moving in wash over him in an instant.

Emma pulls him to his feet, supporting him on legs that barely hold him up, and tugs him over to the couch. She lets him go just long enough for him to fall back into the cushions, and then she's crawling into his lap. She tugs his arms tightly around her, letting him cradle her with one arm around her back and the other over her legs - as close as he can manage to pull her to him. Her fingers delve back into his hair and she tugs - _hard_ \- until he yelps.

The shock of pain at the base of his skull stops the tears, stops the gasping breaths that have been making him see spots, freezes the panic before it can consume him fully.

He is safe. _  
She_ is safe.  
They are together.

When Killian finally meets Emma's gaze, there are tears checked in the corners of her eyes but the smile across her face is beaming. She's positively radiant, as beautiful like this as she was holding a knife to his throat or when she was wearing a red gown at her first ball. With a pink dress and a shy smile, or wrapped up in blankets and clutching his hand tight in hers as she warmed up after the ice wall. When she first wakes up in the morning, snuggled into his side or when she all but collapses into their bed wearing nothing but his shirt.

She's amazing, absolutely brilliant.

And she is with him. He is hers. They are together and safe for the time being.

His own smile is tremulous, the stress of the last few months still trying to leech its way out of him, but the way Emma's eyes light up when he finally responds to her makes the corners of Killian's mouth twitch up just that much more.

"Welcome back," she whispers, brushing some of the hair off his forehead and something settles in his chest at the contact. She's _here_.

"Did I go somewhere?" he asks quietly, unwilling to break the spell they are caught in. He knows he nearly did - knows that he was so caught up in his own head that there had been a distance between them. Even if their current state of contact defies that. She's brought him back to her.

She'll always bring him back to her.

Emma just smiles at him, resting her hand over his heart and playing with the exposed hair on his chest.

His heart rate - which had been slowing down as he relaxed into the corner of the couch, her familiar weight in his arms doing much to calm him - skyrockets again as she leans forward and caresses his lips with her own. He wants to lay her back, run his fingers through her hair as he looms above her, love her in all the ways that they haven't had a chance to yet. He wants to settle over her and learn how she feels all over again.

But he's a selfish pirate, and the ability to hold her as close as he is now wins out. He tugs her down atop him instead, sinking further down into the couch and tightening his fingers around her arm as she shifts until he's more lying down than sitting. Emma grins as she moves to straddle him, putting them that much closer together as she finally dips her head and meets his lips with her own. Her elbows rest on his shoulders as _she_ looms above _him_ , carding her fingers through the hair at his neck and scratching his scalp.

She tugs on his lower lip with her teeth, demanding that he surrender to her control. Once upon a time, that loss of power would have made him rankle. Would have torn something inside him just a little bit more and forced him to take command.

But not now.

Now, he's content to follow her lead, to tangle their tongues together as they explore each other, learn one another like it's the first time. He lets his hand wander down her back, leaving his stump to press hard against her shoulder blades any time she pulls back more than a few inches. His hand sneaks under her shirt, the warmth of her skin against the pads of his fingers and his palm is like a drug, soothing him into relaxing fully. Finally.

There's a lot left to deal with in town. Pieces to pick up and problems to solve. They've only just managed to break the curse on Emma's parents, there are still villains with nefarious plans to battle, and there are still plenty of untold stories that can - and likely _will_ knowing this town - cause trouble for them.

But those are tomorrow's problems. Tonight, there is Emma and him and the path towards healing them both.

Tonight, Killian will take Emma to bed and worship every inch of her, revelling in the feeling of the two of them coming together and eventually falling asleep with nothing between them but their love - confirmed True in the bowels of a Hell he never wants to revisit. They will take this time for them, wake up in the morning stronger than they've ever been.

Because he is hers and she is his and the realms be damned if they try to tear them apart once more.


End file.
